Into the Darkness
by Moon Warrior
Summary: PG for sadistical fantasies. A Draco Malfoy monologue, reflecting on his personality, actions, and a scene from Goblet of Fire.


DISCLAIMER: I own nothing.  
  
Into the Darkness  
  
by Moon Warrior  
  
I'm not sure when it began. All I know is that I was very, very young. There's no time in my life that I can't remember wanting this more than anything in the world.  
  
To be a Death Eater.  
  
My father, throughout my entire life, regaled me with stories of the wonderful times had under his Lord, my Lord, Voldemort. When I was young, I always sat in awe, afraid to interrupt lest the story stop. As I grew older, hearing the same tales over and over, I began to ask questions. I wanted the details. And my father told me.  
  
I loved the stories. I reveled in the idea that my father's life could be mine. I wanted it. With each remembered scream of terror, every related cry of pain, I wanted more and more to be a Death Eater. I wanted to have a wand, to be able to go out some night, find a random Mudblood, and torture them until they begged for mercy. And I would laugh at them, before I killed them. This was my fantasy, and I wanted nothing more.  
  
When I was eleven, I entered Hogwarts. I knew, of course, that I would be a Slytherin. But what gave me the greatest pleasure was the fact that this was the first step to achieving my dreams. When I found out Harry Potter was on the train, I made a split decision. If I could make friends with him, show him the incredible delight found in my father's stories, his lifestyle, then perhaps he would see the beauty of the Dark. But he rejected my offer of friendship. My heart grew cold to him, and from that moment on he has been my greatest enemy.  
  
Throughout the years, I have done all I could to both further my Lord's cause and make Potter's life a misery. Until I was fourteen, it was all I wanted.  
  
I'm not sure when it began to change for me. If I have to pinpoint the moment--- yes, it was the Quidditch World Cup, when I was fourteen. My father, and some of his friends--- drunk, of course--- decided to take part in a little Muggle torture. I begged to be allowed to join them. My father ruffled my hair and told me it was only a few years still until I could participate. Then he sent me and my mother out into the woods, to avoid being hurt in the confusion.  
  
My mother disappeared with a few friends of hers not long after. I chose to stay by the edge of the trees, watching the fun I was not allowed to take part in. Then, of course, I heard Potter and his friends. Of all the places in the woods, they had had to be here and find me. When Granger lit up her wand, I saw them. Potter and Weasley seemed not at all afraid. Granger, on the other hand--- she was terrified. Of course, she hid it well. All Gryffindors do. But several years among the Slytherins had fine-tuned my senses, to the point where I could almost smell fear, like an animal.  
  
I saw what anyone else would miss: the tiny glint in her eye, the almost imperceptible tightening of the muscles around her mouth. The way the hand that wasn't holding her wand gripped her robe and released it, again and again. I was surprised, in a way. I hadn't thought an almighty Gryffindor knew what fear was. And, for some reason, my reaction was off. I still felt the joy that had always been there, but now it was different. It was still tinged with something like--- guilt.  
  
I think that was the point where my change began. Before, it had all been in the abstract. I had never thought of the Mudbloods as people. And if I did, they were never people I knew. But Granger was a Mudblood, and as such, was in danger there. And as much as I hated her, and still do, she was a person, and not only that, but a person that I knew.  
  
I wasn't, at the time, quite sure why I did it, but I warned her. I told Granger to get as far away as she could. I was nasty, trying to push her away from me and towards safety. After a moment, she went.  
  
But the damage was done. After that, I viewed Death Eater activities with more and more dislike. I tried to recapture that untainted sense of euphoria at the idea of being a Death Eater, but I couldn't. As time wore on, being a Death Eater seemed less and less like the perfect life and more and more like a trap. I had the sense of approaching the edge of a cliff, one that was so deep I couldn't see the bottom of it. All I saw was darkness. And I had the choice: I could turn away from the cliff, or, I could jump, and fall into the darkness.  
  
I must make my choice. My choice that is not a choice. Can I really turn away from the cliff? Away from my dream? Away from my future? Do I want to? So many questions. I can't answer them all. All I can do is look at the man standing in front of me, the one with the red eyes, the pale skin, the hands like spiders. And jump.  
  
Into the darkness.  
  
(A/N) In case anyone was confused, that was a Draco Malfoy monologue. If you can't place the scene about Hermione, it's in the fourth book. For all of you who think I'm an idiot for mentioning that, be nice to the people who don't know HP as well as you do. Review, please! -M.W. 


End file.
